THE ARREST
Bat Lajune grinned into the dark as the galloping cow-horse carried
Endicott out upon the trail of Purdy and the girl. "A'm t'ink dat wan
good job. Mebbe-so de pilgrim keel Purdy, _bien_! Mebbe-so Purdy keel
de pilgrim, den de sheriff ketch Purdy an' she got for git hang--dat
pret' good, too. Anyhow, Tex, she don' got for bodder 'bout keel Purdy
no mor'. Tex kin keel him all right, but dat Purdy she damn good shot,
too. Mebbe-so she git de drop on Tex. Den afterwards, me--A'm got to
fool 'roun' an' keel Purdy, an' mebbe-so A'm hang for dat, too. Wat de
hell!"
A man rode up to the corral and tied his horse to the fence. The
half-breed drew into the shadow. "Dat Sam Moore," he muttered. "She
dipity sher'ff, an' she goin' try for git 'lect for de beeg sher'ff dis
fall. Mebbe-so she lak' for git chanct for 'rest som'one. A'm goin'
see 'bout dat." He stepped to the side of the man, who started
nervously and peered into his face.
"Hello, Bat, what the devil you doin' prowlin' around here? Why hain't
you in dancin'?"
The half-breed shrugged: "Me, A'm no lak' for dance mooch. She don' do
no good. Anyhow, A'm hont 'roun' for fin' you. A'm t'ink mebbe-so you
better com' 'long wit' me."
"Come along with you! What's on yer mind?" Suddenly the man
straightened: "Say, look a here, if you're up to helpin' Tex Benton
pull off any gag on me, you've picked the wrong hand, see!"
The other shook his head vigorously: "_Non_! Tex, she goin' in de
dance-hall. She don' know nuthin' 'bout w'at A'm know."
"What you drivin' at? Come on, spit 'er out! I hain't a-goin' to fool
'round here all night an' miss the dancin'."
Bat stepped closer: "Two mans an' wan 'oman gon' up de trail. A'm
t'ink som'one goin' for git keel. Mebbe-so we better gon' up an' see
'bout dat."
"You're crazy as hell! The trail's free, hain't it? What business I
got hornin' in on 'em? I come to town for to take in the dance, an'
I'm a-goin' to. Besides it's a good chanct to do a little
'lectioneerin'." Once more Bat shrugged, and turning away, began to
untie his horse.
"Four Ace Johnson, over 'crost de riv', she dipity sher'ff, too. A'm
hear she goin' run for de beeg sher'ff, nex' fall. A'm gon' over an'
see if she no lak' to go 'long an' mak' de arres' if som'ting happen.
Mebbe-so w'en de votin' tam' com' 'long de men lak' for hav' Choteau
County sher'ff w'at kin mak' de arres' better as de sher'ff w'at kin
dance good. _Voila_!" Without so much as a glance toward the other,
he slipped into his saddle and started slowly down the alley. Before
he reached the street Moore's horse pushed up beside him.
"Where's this here outfit?" he growled, with a glance toward the
dance-hall lights, "an' what makes you think they's a-goin' to be
gun-fightin'?"
"A'm t'ink dey ain' so far," replied the half-breed as he swung into
the trail at a trot. And although the impatient deputy plied him with
a volley of questions the other vouchsafed no further information.
Midway of the ascent to the bench the two drew rein abruptly. From
above, and at no great distance, rang the sound of a shot--then
silence. The deputy glanced at the half-breed: "Hey, Bat," he
whispered, "this here's a dangerous business!"
"Mebbe-so Choteau County lak' to git de sher'ff w'at ain' so mooch
scairt."
"Scairt! Who's scairt? It hain't that. But I got a wife an' nine
kids back there in the mountains, an' I'm a-goin' to deputize you."
The half-breed shot him a look of sudden alarm: "_Non_! _Non_! Better
I lak' I ponch de cattle. You ke'p de nine wife an' de kid!"
"You hain't got no more sense than a reservation Injun!" growled the
deputy. "What I mean is, you got to help me make this here arrest!"
The half-breed grinned broadly: "Me,--A'm de, w'at you call, de posse,
eh? _Bien_! Com' on 'long den. Mebbe-so we no ketch, you no git
'lect for sher'ff."
At the head of the trail the deputy checked his galloping mount with a
jerk and scrutinized the three riderless horses that stood huddled
together. His face paled perceptibly. "Oh, Lord!" he gasped between
stiffening lips: "It's Tex, an' Jack Purdy, an' they've fit over
Cinnabar Joe's gal!"
He turned wrathfully toward Bat. "Why'n you tell me who it was up
here, so's I could a gathered a man's-size posse?" he demanded.
"Whichever one of them two has shot up the other, they hain't goin' to
be took in none peaceable. An' if they've killed one of each other
a'ready, he ain't goin' to be none scrupulous about pottin' you an' me.
Chances is, they've got us covered right now. 'Tain't noways
percautious to go ahead--an' we don't dast to go back! Bat, this is a
hell of a place to be--an' it's your fault. Mebbe they won't shoot a
unarmed man--here Bat, you take my gun an' go ahead. I'll tell 'em
back there how you was game to the last. O-O-o-o-o! I got a turrible
cramp in my stummick! I got to lay down. Do your duty, Bat, an' if I
surmise this here attact, which I think it's the appendeetus, I'll tell
'em how you died with yer boots on in the service of yer country." The
man forced his six-shooter into the half-breed's hand and, slipping
limply from his saddle to the ground, wriggled swiftly into the shadow
of a sage bush.
Bat moved his horse slowly forward as he peered about him. "If Purdy
keel de pilgrim, den A'm better look out. He don' lak' me nohow,
'cause A'm fin' out 'bout dat cinch. Better A'm lak' Sam Moore, A'm
git de 'pendeceet in my belly for li'l w'ile." He swung off his horse
and flattening himself against the ground, advanced cautiously from
bush to bush. At the edge of the depression he paused and stared at
the two figures that huddled close together a few feet ahead. Both
were gazing toward the trail and in the moonlight he recognized the
face of the pilgrim. With a smile of satisfaction the half-breed stood
erect and advanced boldly.
"You com' in tam', eh?" he asked, as with a nod Endicott stepped toward
him and handed him the revolver.
"Yes, just in time. I am deeply grateful to you."
"Eh?" The other's brows drew together.
"I say, I thank you--for the gun, and for telling me----"
"Ha, dat's a'right. W'er' Purdy?" The girl shuddered, as Endicott
pointed to the ground at some little distance away. The man advanced
and bent over the prostrate form.
"Ba goss!" he exclaimed with a glance of admiration. "You shoot heem
after de draw! _Nom de Dieu_! You good man wit' de gun! Wer' you hit
heem?"
Endicott shook his head. "I don't know. I saw him, and shot, and he
fell." The half-breed was bending over the man on the ground.
"You shoot heem on he's head," he approved, "dat pret' good place." He
bent lower and a sibilant sound reached the ears of Endicott and the
girl. After a moment the man stood up and came toward them smiling.
"A'm fin' out if she dead," he explained, casually. "A'm speet de
tobac' juice in he's eye. If she wink she ain' dead. Purdy, she don'
wink no mor'. Dat damn good t'ing."
Again Alice Marcum shuddered as Endicott spoke: "Can you find our
horses?" he asked. "I must go to town and give myself up."
"_Oui_, A'm git de hoss' a'right. Better you tak' 'em an' skeep off.
A'm git on dat posse an' you bet we no ketch. A'm lak' you fine."
"No! No!" Endicott exclaimed. "If I have killed a man I shall stand
trial for it. I won't sneak away like a common murderer. I know my
act was no crime, let the decision of the jury be what it may."
The half-breed regarded him with a puzzled frown. "You mean you lak'
fer git arres'?" he asked in surprise.
"Why, of course! I--" the other interrupted with a laugh.
"A'right. Dat de kin' Sam Moore she lak' fer arres'. Sam, she layin'
back here a ways. She dipity sher'ff, an' we'n we com' on dem hoss',
Sam she git to fink 'bout he's wife an' kids. He don' fink 'bout dem
mooch only w'en he git dronk, or git scairt. Den he lov' 'em lak'
hell, an' he grab de beeg belly-ache, so dey don' got for feel sorry
'bout heem gittin' keel."
Slipping his own gun into its holster, the half-breed turned and walked
toward the spot where he had left the deputy, and as he walked he threw
open the cylinder of the officer's gun and removed the cartridges.
"Sam!" he called sharply. Cautiously a head raised from behind a sage
bush. "How long you t'ink dat tak' you git well? Wan man he lak' for
git arres' w'en you git time."
"Shut up! Don't talk so loud! D'you want to git us killed? Which one
got it?"
"Purdy. De pilgrim shoot heem 'cause he run off wit' he's girl."
"Pilgrim! What pilgrim! An' what girl? Ain't that Tex Benton's
horse, an' Cinnabar Joe's----?"
"Uh-huh, A'm bor' heem Tex boss for ketch Purdy. An', Ba goss, he
shoot heem on he's head after Purdy draw'd!"
Moore stared aghast. "What? A pilgrim done that? Not on yer life!
He may look an' act like a pilgrim but, take it from me, he's a
desperate character if he got Purdy after he draw'd. It's worser than
if it was Tex. _He_ might of took pity on us, knowin' about the
fambly. But a stranger, an' one that kin git a man like Jack Purdy!
O-o-o-o, my stummick! Bat, I'm 'fraid I'm a-passin' away! These
spells is a-killin' me--an' what'll become of the woman an' the kids?"
The half-breed grinned: "Mebbe-so you kin' pass back agin, Sam. He
ain' got no gun."
Sam Moore ceased to writhe, and sat abruptly erect. "Ain't got no
gun!" he exclaimed. "What did he shoot Purdy with?"
"My gun. He giv' it back to me. A'm bor' heem dat gun li'l while ago."
The deputy sprang to his feet. "Quick, now, Bat!" he roared loudly.
"You slip these irons on him, an' I'll catch up the horses. Don't take
no chances!" He tossed the half-breed a pair of hand-cuffs, and
started after his own horse. "Kill him if he makes a crooked move.
Tell him you're actin' under my authority an' let him understand we're
hard men to tamper with--us sheriffs. We don't stand fer no foolin'."
In Curly Hardee's dance-hall Tex Benton leaned against the wall and
idly watched the couples weave in and out upon the floor to the whining
accompaniment of the fiddles and the clanging piano.
Apparently the cowboy's interest centred solely upon the dancers, but a
close observer would have noticed the keen glance with which he scanned
each new arrival--noticed too, that after a few short puffs on a
cigarette the man tossed it to the floor and immediately rolled
another, which is not in the manner of a man with a mind at ease.
The Texan saw Endicott enter the room, watched as the man's eyes swept
the faces of dancers and spectators, and smiled as he turned toward the
door.
"Three of us," mused the cowboy, with the peculiar smile still twisting
the corners of his lips, "Purdy, an' me, an' the pilgrim. Purdy's
work's so coarse he'll gum his own game, an' that's where I come in.
An' the pilgrim--I ain't quite figgered how he stacks up." The
cowpuncher glanced at his watch. "It's time they showed up long ago.
I wonder what's keepin' em." Suddenly he straightened himself with a
jerk: "Good Lord! I wonder if---- But no, not even Purdy would try
_that_. Still, if he knows I know he tried to dope me he'll be
figgerin' on pullin' his freight anyhow, an'--" The man's lips
tightened and, elbowing his way to the door he stepped onto the street
and hurried to the Headquarters saloon. Cinnabar Joe was behind the
bar, apparently none the worse for his dose of chloral, and in answer
to a swift signal, followed the Texan to the rear of the room.
"Does Purdy know I'm wise to his dope game?"
The bartender nodded: "Yes, I told him you must of switched the
glasses."
"I saw him leadin' your horse rigged up with your side-saddle acrost
the flats awhile back."
Again the bartender nodded: "He borrowed the outfit fer a gal of his'n
he said come in on the train. Wanted to take her fer a ride."
"Where'd they go?" The words whipped viciously.
"Search me! I've had my hands full to keep track of what's goin' on in
here, let alone outside."
Without a word the Texan stepped out the back door and hastened toward
the horse corral behind the livery stable. Circling its fence to the
head of the alley, he stared in surprise at the spot where he and Bat
Lajune had tied their horses. The animals were gone, and cursing the
half-breed at every step, he rushed to the street, and catching up the
reins of a big roan that stood in a group of horses, swung into the
saddle and headed out onto the trail.
"Women are fools," he muttered savagely. "It beats hell what even the
sensible ones will fall for!"
At the up-bend of the trail he halted abruptly and listened. From the
shadows of the coulee ahead came the sound of voices and the soft
scraping of horses' feet. He drew the roan into a cottonwood thicket
and waited.
"Somethin' funny here. Nobody ever come to a dance ridin' at a walk,"
he muttered, and then as the little cavalcade broke into the bright
moonlight at a bend of the trail, his eyes widened with surprise. In
front rode Bat Lajune with Purdy's horse snubbed to his saddle-horn,
and immediately following him were the girl and Endicott riding side by
side. Tex saw that the girl was crying, and that Endicott's hands were
manacled, and that he rode the missing horse. Behind them rode Sam
Moore, pompously erect, a six-shooter laid across the horn of his
saddle, and a scowl of conceited importance upon his face that would
have evoked the envy of the Kaiser of Krautland. The figure appealed
to the Texan's sense of humour and waiting until the deputy was exactly
opposite his place of concealment, he filled his lungs and leaned
forward in his saddle.
"Y-e-e-e-o-w!" The sound blared out like the shrill of doom. The
officer's six-shooter thudded upon the ground, his hands grasped the
horn of the saddle, his spurs dug into his horse's flanks and sent the
animal crashing between the girl and Endicott and caused Purdy's horse
to tear loose from the half-breed's saddle-horn.
"Stand 'em off, Bat!" shrieked the deputy as he shot past, "I'm a-goin'
fer help!" and away he tore, leaning far over his horse's neck, with
Purdy's horse, the stirrups lashing his sides, dashing madly in his
wake.
A moment later Tex pushed his mount into the trail where the girl,
drawn close to Endicott, waited in fearful expectation. The half-breed
met him with a grin.
Rapidly, with many ejaculations interspersing explosive volleys of
half-intelligible words, Bat acquainted the Texan with the progress of
events. The cowpuncher listened without comment until the other had
finished. Then he turned to Endicott.
"Where'd you learn to shoot?" he asked abruptly.
"I never learned. Until tonight I never had a pistol in my hand."
"You done damned well--to start out with," commented the Texan dryly.
"But, oh, it's horrible!" sobbed the girl, "and it's all my fault!"
"I reckon that's right. It looks like a bad mix-up all around."
"Oh, why didn't you tell me what a _beast_ he was? You knew all the
time. And when you insulted him I thought you were _horrid_! And I
thought he was so noble when he refrained from shooting you."
"No. He wasn't noble, none noticeable--Purdy wasn't. An' as for me
tellin' you about him--answer me square: Would you have believed me?"
The girl's eyes fell before his steady gaze.
"No," she faltered, "I wouldn't. But isn't there something we can do?
Some way out of this awful mess?"
The Texan's eyes flashed a glint of daring. He was thinking rapidly.
Endicott moved his horse closer to the cowboy. "Can't you manage to
get _her_ away--onto a train some place so she can avoid the annoyance
of having to testify at the trial, and submit to the insulting remarks
of your sheriff?"
The girl interrupted him: "Winthrop Adams Endicott, if you dare to even
think _such_ a thing--I'll never speak to you again! Indeed he _won't_
take me away or put me on any train! I got you into this, and I won't
budge one inch until you get out of it. What do I care for a little
annoyance--and as for the sheriff, I'll say 'boo' at him in the dark
and he'll die."
There was a gleam of approval in the eyes of the Texan as his lips
twisted into their peculiar cynical smile. "Spunky little devil," he
thought to himself. "There's a chance to pull a play here somewhere
that'll make me solid with her all right. I got to have time to
think." Aloud he said: "Just you leave things to me. I'll get a line
on what's what. But you both got to do as I say, an' no augerin' about
it neither. It looks from here as if things could be straightened out
if someone don't go to work an' ball the jack. An' as for Sam passin'
insultin' remarks no more--he won't. Here he comes now with about half
Wolf River for a posse." The cowboy turned to Endicott: "You go 'long
with 'em an' lay low 'til you hear from Bat, there, or me. Then you do
as we say, an' don't ask no questions."
The rumble of horses' feet sounded from the direction of the little
town and the Texan whispered to Bat: "Find out where they lock him up.
An' when the excitement dies down you find me. I ain't a-goin' to lose
sight of _her_--see." The half-breed grinned his understanding and Tex
swung his horse in close beside the girl and awaited the coming of the
posse.
With a yell the onrushing cowboys whom the deputy had recruited from
the dance-hall spied the little group and, thundering up at full
gallop, formed a closely packed circle about them. Recognizing the
deputy who was vociferously urging his horse from the rear, Tex forced
his way through the circle and called him aside.
"Say, Sam," he drawled, in a tone that caused the deputy's hair to
prickle at its roots; "about some an' sundry insultin' remarks you
passed agin' the lady, yonder----"
"No, I never----"
"That'll be about all the lyin' you need to do now. An' just let this
sink in. You can lock up the pilgrim where you damn please. But the
lady goes to the hotel. If you aim to hold her as a witness you can
appoint a guard--an' I'm the guard. D'you get me? 'Cause if there's
any misunderstandin' lingerin' in them scrambled aigs you use fer
brains, I'll just start out by tellin' the boys what a hell of a brave
arrest you pulled off, an' about the nervy stand you made agin' odds to
guard your prisoners when I yipped at you from the brush. Then, after
they get through havin' their fun out of you, I'll just waste a shell
on you for luck--see?"
"Sure, Tex, that sounds reasonable," the other rattled on in evident
relief. "Fact is, I be'n huntin' fer you ever sense I suspicioned
they'd be'n a murder. 'If I c'd only find Tex,' I says to myself, I
says, 'he'd be worth a hull posse hisself.' Jest you go ahead an'
night-herd the lady. I'll tell her myself so's it'll be official. An'
me an' the rest of the boys here, we'll take care of the pilgrim, which
he ain't no pilgrim at all, but a desperate desperado, or he couldn't
never have got Jack Purdy the way he done."
The Texan grinned and, forcing his horse through the crowd, reached the
girl's side where he was joined a few moments later by the deputy.
Despite her embarrassing situation Alice Marcum could scarce restrain a
smile at the officer's sudden obsequious deference. Stetson in hand,
he bowed awkwardly. "Excuse me, mom, but, as I was goin' on to say in
reference of any remarks I might of passed previous, I found out
subsequent I didn't mean what I was sayin', which I misunderstood
myself complete. But as I was goin' on to say, mom, the State of
Montany might need you fer a witness in this here felonious trial, so
if you'll be so kind an' go to the _ho_tel along of Tex here whom he's
the party I've tolled off fer to guard you, an' don't stand no monkey
business neither. What I mean is," he hastened to add, catching a
glance from the Texan's eye, "don't be afraid to ask fer soap or towels
if there hain't none in yer room, an' if yer cold holler fer an extry
blanket er two. The State's a-payin' fer it, an' yer board, too, an'
if they don't fill you up every meal you set up a yell an' I'll see 't
they do." The deputy turned abruptly away and addressed the cowboys:
"Come on, boys, let's git this character under lock an' key so I kin
breathe easier."
Even Endicott joined in the laugh that greeted the man's words and,
detaining a cowpuncher to ride on either side of the prisoner, the
officer solemnly led the way toward town.